


Second To None

by lilsherlockian1975



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Advice, Alwyas, F/M, Happy Ending, Indecision, Post-Hogwarts, Romance, Some angst, Tiny bit of Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 22:57:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10371648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilsherlockian1975/pseuds/lilsherlockian1975
Summary: Hermione goes to Severus for some advice before marrying Ron. Little does he know how his words will change his own future.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a little one shot that came to me last night. Big thanks to darnedchild for bating this for me. She is wonderful! I offer no explanation as to how Severus survived, no time really. But he did, obviously.
> 
> I own nothing. Enjoy ~Lil~

"Professor," Hermione said, pulling Snape's attention from what appeared to be an account's ledger.

"Miss Granger. What can I help you with today?" he asked, placing his quill on the counter next to the book and giving her his undivided attention.

Being under the Dark wizard's scrutiny was more than intimidating, even after the hundreds of conversations they'd had in the six years since the end of the Second Wizarding War.

"I have, ah… come in search of advice," she explained, trying her best to sound hopeful and not at all terrified.

Moving from around the counter, he folded his arms over his chest, making himself even more imposing, and asked, "And would this be a potion or ingredient of which you inquire?"

"N-neither," she stuttered and took a step forward, internally praising herself for her bravery. "It is of a personal nature, sir."

He narrowed his eyes. "I'm sure there are better people that you could turn to for advice, Miss Granger…" He looked at her questioningly then added, "It  _is_ still Granger, isn't it? Or have I missed a happy announcement?"

Hermione looked down at the floor of the apothecary then back up at her former Potions Professor. "For now it's… Granger, sir."

He started to walk away, back towards the counter. "Well, then, if you need advice on your upcoming union, your former Head of House might be more appropriate…"

"Not for this, I'm afraid." She drew a fortifying breath and took one more step forward. "Do you have regrets, Professor?"

Stopping in his tracks, though not turning around he said, "I'm sorry?"

"About your past." He faced her. Hermione noticed his hands were drawn into fists at his sides. But she continued, "Decisions… or indecision, perhaps. I-I'm not speaking of the things you've done. This isn't about Riddle or Dumbledore. I'm not referring to the war."

His face grew stormy for the first time since she entered his shop. "Then what exactly are you getting at with your impertinent line of questioning?"

She had to stay strong, this was far too important. "If you had it all to do over again, would you tell her?"

Hermione watched as his breath caught; his skin seemed to pale right in front of her. She'd never seen the stoic man taken by surprise before. It was quite a feat. She feared that he wasn't going to answer, so she rushed ahead. "I'm not trying to pry, but you see… I have a decision to make, sir, and I'm afraid that I'm about to make the biggest mistake of my life."

Their attention was called to the door when the jingle of the entry bell alerted them to a new customer. Hermione busied herself with a bottle of joint supplement.

Snape rushed to the front of the stoor. "I'm sorry, we're closed," he said as he guided the wizard back outside.

"But the sign…" Hermione heard the customer protest.

"It's faulty," Snape insisted before shutting, locking and warding the door. He turned to her, his back up against the wall. "Miss Granger, as I said before, I do not believe that I'm the correct person to offer aid to you in this situation. Perhaps Minerva…"

"I've thought long and hard about this, Professor, and you are the only one who I can speak to. You see, the reason I hesitate is that my heart belongs elsewhere. I  _do_ love Ronald. But I fear that I will always love him second best." She gathered her courage for the next part of her statement, for it was the most telling. Looking down at her hands she continued, "And the wizard with whom my heart lies loves someone else. I'd be  _his_ second place love, just like Ron would be mine. That is if he could even care for me at all." She looked up, hoping that the tears were not evident in her eyes. She could not bear to show weakness in front of this man. "What should I do?"

"He… he is not aware of you affection?"

Hermione shook her head to the negative.

"And you are certain of his love for this other witch?"

"I am."

"Are they together?"

"No."

He looked confused as if he had figured out who her wizard was. No doubt he thought she was referring to Harry. She had no intention of telling him outright, but she would not lie. As if she would come to Severus Snape for advice on how to woo Harry Potter.

"So there is a chance." He took a step forward. "He may return your feelings."

She couldn't believe he was actually indulging her and not turning her away, with a snide comment and possibly a hex. The years had taught her that he was indeed a changed man, this conversation showed her just how much. "Very little chance, sir. His love is deep. Abiding."

"Are you happy with Mr. Weasley?" he asked.

"Ronald tries. We have little in common other than history and mutual respect. As I said, I do love him. But…"

"It's not the love of which you thought to build a marriage?"

"I'm not being romantic." She stepped away to admire a beautiful cobalt blue bottle. It would have looked lovely on her vanity. "I know that not all marriages are filled with passion and fireworks. But I had hoped for a little more."

"And this other wizard, he is the stuff of fireworks?"

She turned, a smile brightening her face. "He is brilliant. Dedicated. A fire burns just under the surface of his well-built facade... " She was giving away too much. "He doesn't know I exist."

"Everyone knows you, Miss Granger, you are one of the most famous figures in our world."

"I am not someone with whom he'd give a second thought. He's never...He knows me, of course, but doesn't care to know more of me."

"Then how could you possibly be in love with him?"

"Oh, Professor… how could I not?" Tears were about to fall, she had to move the conversation on to the resolution or else she was sure to fail. "If you had told her," She paused, knowing she was causing him pain and hating herself for it. "Would it have made a difference?"

Snape sneered, a hint of the old callused professor showing through. "Are you afraid that in keeping this to yourself that you might start another war, Miss Granger?"

Did he really think himself the cause of everything? This man, this poor tormented man… "No, sir. I'm afraid of losing the love of my life and ruining Ron's only chance at happiness."

"Two hearts on the line. And, of course, what of the other wizard's? Perhaps this information would be a burden." He stepped toward the counter, a thoughtful look on his face, before turning to her once again. "Then again, perhaps it would be his chance at some kind of freedom from what sounds like a hopeless love."

"I could dare to dream."

"But could you live with being his second choice?"

"As Ron would be mine."

"But Mr. Weasley would be blessed with ignorance, whereas you would have the full knowledge of your lover's heart."

She smiled sadly. "Indeed. You see my dilemma."

Stepping closer to Hermione, Snape gave her a sympathetic nod. "I do not envy you, Miss Granger."

"If you had it to do over again, sir, would you tell her? Would you at least give her the choice?"

"You know what they say about hindsight…"

"But not knowing who she would choose?"

"But I do."

"No, you don't. You didn't give her the choice."

"I've made so many mistakes," he whispered, almost to no one.

"But if you could correct them?"

Snape looked across his shop, staring at nothing in particular for several minutes before answering. He didn't look back at Hermione at first. "I would tell her. Would have told her, if I'd had more courage. If I'd had been a better man. She would have rejected me anyway, but she would have died knowing... or perhaps she would not have died at all, but at least she would have known that I love her." He turned his head and Hermione saw the cost of his words. The gift of his confession.

She made up her mind.

"I cannot tell you how much I appreciate this, sir. And please believe me when I say that you will always have my confidence. I won't tell a soul." She started walking to the door. When she turned the handle, it resisted.

"When is your wedding, Miss Granger?"

Looking up, she saw that Snape had moved and was now standing next to her unlocking the door and removing the wards. "In two weeks time."

"I wish you all the luck in the world," he said then walked to the back of the shop.

* * *

Two days later, Severus Snape stood in his shop reading a missive from his former student and hardly believing a word on the parchment.

_Professor Snape,_

_It seems odd for me to address this letter as such considering what I must tell you. First of all, I must, once again, thank you for speaking so candidly to me, especially considering the personal nature of our discussion. I have decided to take your advice and confess my feelings to the wizard in question._

_I am in love with you. Many apologies for doing so in a letter, but Gryffindor courage only goes so far. I must say, I am still in turmoil as to what to do about my upcoming wedding. I love two men, two very different men, for two very different reasons, in two very different ways._

_Ron offers me certainty and guaranteed affection. I am not conflicted about his feeling toward me. He tells me every day. He is kind and gentle. He is simple. Easy. We do fight, of course, but in the end, he always gives in to me. It's almost as if he's still in awe of our relationship, all these years later. My childhood friend turned lover. Any girl would dream of such a life._

_But I am not any girl._

_And then there's you. You, in most likelihood, do not and could never love me, especially as I love you. It happened so slowly and in such an unexpected way that by the time I realised where my heart had wandered off to, I had no hope of coaxing it back._

_It happened in the long conversations and disagreements. It happened whilst watching you slowly change after the war and seeing just how much of yourself you had sacrificed to save us all. I do not look at you as some kind of hero, though you are one. But rather the brave man who played your role beautifully._

_You are not easy or simple. We have argued many times through the years at Order meetings (it almost came to drawing wands on more than one occasion). With you, I feel safe, like I wouldn't have to be in charge of someone for once in my adult life. Your presence, your authority is not only reassuring but, if I'm being honest, it's incredibly attractive._

_You and I are so much more equals than Ron and I would ever be. Just writing that down feels like a betrayal. He's not an idiot (or dunderhead, to use your word), but he is not a thinker. Not a seeker of knowledge. You treat the acquisition of information like a privilege, as do I. I've always admired that._

_Where Ronald does his best to please me, I feel like you would expect me to better myself. Where he would give me the world, you would tell me to figure out how to acquire it myself, then guide me in the right direction when I get off track._

_Physically you couldn't be more different. Ron with his handsome boyish charm, and you with your dark brooding good looks. I'm hard pressed to say which I prefer since I'm well acquainted with Ronald, but have only fantasised about you and what lies beneath that frock coat of yours. You should know that I have wondered, many, many times. I can say, though, that it saddens me to think that I shall never get the chance to find out for myself._

_Which brings me to the inevitable. I have told you. Now you know. I must make a decision within the next few days. If these words mean nothing to you, I beg you to not let me flounder, at least return my letter so that I know that there is no hope. However, if there is the smallest chance that you could return my feelings come see me. I have included my address and will be awaiting your response._

_Forever Yours (whether or not I'm wanted),_

_Hermione J. Granger_

Severus sat down, after reading the letter, and poured himself a very large glass ofwhisky.

* * *

It had been a grueling day at Granger & Goldstein, the law firm Hermione had started just the year before with Anthony Goldstein. They had finally built up a decent clientele and she'd spent the entire day preparing briefs. Her fingers ached from the miles of parchment she had written.

She hadn't started packing yet, putting it off until the last minute in a very unHermione way.

Her spirits were at an all time low having not heard from Severus since she poured her heart out to him in her letter. She knew it was a long shot, but was disheartened that he hadn't respected her request of returning the letter, allowing her to have some sense of closure, if not utter disappointment.

She had just changed from her work robes into a comfortable pair of jeans and soft jumper when she felt her wards ripple, then heard a knock at her front door. Her heart jumped into her throat as she hoped beyond hope the person just behind her door was her former professor.

As she opened the door, she found just that.

"Miss Granger," he said, an uncharacteristically nervous look on his face.

"Professor…"

"I'd say we can dispense with the professor business considering what needs to be discussed, Miss Granger. Besides, I haven't instructed you in years."

"Won't you come in." She stepped to the side. "And if that's the case, then you should call me Hermione."

"That won't be necessary."

Her blood ran cold. "I see."

He was holding a wrinkled parchment in his hand, she recognised it immediately. Once out of the entryway, he turned on her and said, "What's the meaning of this?" As he waved the parchment in the air.

"I'd say it's pretty self-explanatory, Prof… Sev... " she sighed. "Mr. Snape."

"It's ridiculous."

"My feelings are ridiculous?"

He scoffed. "Have you taken leave of your senses?"

"I can assure you that I am perfectly sane," she replied tersely.

"Not if these words are to be believed," he snapped, once again holding up the letter as evidence.

"You do know that this wasn't necessary. All you had to do was return it. There was no need to come here and humiliate me." She walked past him toward her kitchen to make some tea, simply to have something to do that didn't involve Severus Snape.

But unfortunately, he followed. "Miss Granger, what made you write such a thing?"

She whipped around. "It's been in your possession for nearly a week! What on earth made you come here now?!"

He hesitated, looking guilty, for some reason. "I needed answers. I needed to know what had happened to the Brightest Witch of Her Age to make her suddenly lose her mind."

Tears threatened, but she held them back, barely. "I'm not crazy,  _sir_! I asked you for your advice, then I took it! Clearly it didn't go as I'd have liked. You've made your feelings, or lack thereof, very clear. Now you may leave." She turned her attention back to the hob.

"I'm not finished!" he growled.

Without facing him she said, "I believe you are."

The room was quiet for several minutes save the sound of Hermione and her tea. She knew he hadn't left, that he hadn't even moved.  _Why is he here?_ she wondered as tears started to fall. Why did she go speak to him and why, dear Merlin, why did she send that thrice damned letter?

"Miss Granger," he said in a voice so soft and kind that it only caused more tears to gather. "I... " He heaved a great sigh. "Cold feet are quite normal in these circumstances. Or I'd imagine that they are."

"I don't have cold feet." She wiped her face clean, not willing for him to see her cry, even if it had been obvious. The appearance of fortitude was important.

"You are using this… this misplaced attachment to... _me_ , of all people, to find a reason not to marry Mr. Weasley."

Hermione laughed a cold and bitter sound, even to her ears. "I knew you'd think that."

"Well, it  _is_  fairly obvious."

"Yet untrue."

"You cannot actually think that you're in love with me," he said, his voice pleading.

She finally finished making her cup and turned to him, handing him his own. Having watched him prepare his own at dozens of Order meetings throughout the years, she was well aware of how he took it. "I know my own heart, Mr. Snape. I thought I'd made that clear. I am not a child. This is not impetuousness or fear. When have you known me not to be completely informed before making a decision?" She looked down at the steaming cup in her hands. "Save a couple of instances during the war itself," she mumbled. Then she looked back up, determined to make her point and look him in the eyes whilst doing so. "In all the years of our acquaintance haven't I read every book and asked every question before making a plan or writing a report? Haven't I always looked for every answer?"

His face suddenly looked resigned and defeated.

"I had to know before I made, what is perhaps, the most important decision of my life. Now I do."

"And you will marry him?"

"Indeed."

"The man you love second best?"

She smiled sadly. "Yes. The man I love second best."

"And will you be happy?"

"I will try to be. Are you?"

He didn't answer right away but stared at her as if he were looking into her soul. Perhaps he was. "I could have been," he finally said. "But I have made so many mistakes."

"As you said before."

He took a sip of his tea then put the cup on the counter. "I wish you all the best…" He paused as if he was thinking over something before bending slightly and kissing her lightly on her cheek. "...Hermione."

She stood in stunned silence, watching him leave before the tears came once again. After finishing her tea she decided it was a good time to start packing.

* * *

Three days later, Severus was drinking his morning coffee (always coffee in the morning, never tea, tea was for the afternoon) when The Daily Prophet arrived. The headline immediately caught his attention.

_**Heartbreaker Hermione Granger Claims Another Victim.** _

_Less than a week before the auspicious date, Hermione Granger - one third of the Golden Trio - has canceled her wedding to Ronald Weasley. When contacted, Mr. Weasley refused to comment, proving that he is indeed the bigger person. Miss Granger could not be located at the time of publication to answer for her flagrant abuse of the young man. If my readers will remember her past misuse of none other than the Wizarding World's own Saviour, Harry Potter as well as Quidditch star Victor Krum…_

Severus tossed the rag across the room and stood. That's when the pacing started. What had possessed the girl to cancel the wedding after their conversation? He had made himself quite clear, of that he was sure. He had no intention of aiding her in her delusion that she was somehow… in love with him. What a ridiculous notion! Even after she had emphasised her constant need to know all the answers and research everything thoroughly, he didn't think for a second… okay, perhaps that wasn't completely true. He  _had_ considered it, if only for a moment. It was at least  _possible_  that she harboured some feelings for him. But why? What could she possibly see in a washed up old Potions maker and ex Death Eater? It was perplexing.

Did he want to see her married to a Weasley? No, of course not. She was worth ten of any of them. But she had her own mind, not to mention a successful law firm. If anyone could keep true to themselves whilst in the middle of that sea of ginger, it was Hermione Granger. Of that he was sure. He wasn't about to give up his freedom and future to save her from Molly Prewett's fate. Hermione would just have to do that herself.

And it seemed like she had.

He just didn't understand why? She seemed set to marry that idiot if he, himself, turned her down.

She had asked him why it took him nearly a week to respond to the missive. Unfortunately, her letter had ended seven years of sobriety; he hadn't touched a drop of drink since before the end of the war and he hated himself for his weakness. Severus had spent four days drunk off his arse and another two recovering and if he were being honest, also wallowing in self-pity. Why all the pity? Because it was all so fucking tempting! A beautiful, intelligent, successful witch fancied herself in love with him? With  _HIM_! Severus Snape! Oh, what a life he could have…

In the sober light of day, without the haze of Firewhisky and doubt, he saw it all for what it really was: a child afraid of moving forward with her life and using  _him_ as an excuse. It infuriated him.

After confronting her, however, he felt no satisfaction, no self-assured indignation that he had done the right thing because she seemed to fully believe in her lunacy.

And for a single solitary moment, so did he.

He left with a heavy heart and a slight tingle on his lips. Pressing a kiss to her cheek had obviously been a mistake. That close he could smell her fresh scent of lilacs, the lingering hint old books, and the faint ting of parchment and ink.

She smelled like his Amortentia.

The fragrance of the potion had changed the year after the war had ended. Or at least that's when he realised it. He was setting up his apothecary, and simply on a whim, had brewed the love potion. What a mistake! When he realised that it no longer smelt of honeysuckle, grass and bergamot he was devastated. How could Lily no longer be his greatest desire? She was his one true love, he knew it above everything. Since that day, he'd taken special notice to, well, for lack of a better word, sniff every witch with whom he came into contact. The day that Miss Granger had visited he thought that he had caught the faint whiff of his potion's scent, but it had been busy and he told himself that it could have been one of any number of witches.

But now he knew the truth.

Knowing and doing were two entirely different things.

His body and mind buzzed with energy as he continued to pace his small home. His magic, on the other hand, practically demanded that he find the girl...no, the woman, and speak with her. It pulled at something deep within him that he couldn't possibly name even if he had a wand at his head. He had no explanation as to when he had decided he could care for the witch. They had spoken many times, and as she had said, fought, well, argued over the years (he had a fondness for riling her up about non-human rights, if for no other reason than to see her enormous hair crackle with magic when she was enraged). But to have formed some kind of attachment, enough to influence his Amortentia? He was at a loss. She was half his age, well, nearly and his former student. This was beyond anything he had ever considered. Now, of course, that she had sent him that damned letter and evidently ended her engagement to Weasley, it was all he  _could_ think about!

Finally, no longer able to physically stop himself, he donned his frock coat and Apparated to an alley in her neighbourhood.

When he turned the corner in front of Hermione's building, he found a flock of angry reporters milling about. He could push (and hex) his way past them, but that would only add fuel to the fire, so he went a different route.

* * *

Hermione was in her bedroom, where she had been since the night before after speaking with Ronald (and taking a bit of a scolding from Molly, more about the expense and trouble than breaking her youngest's heart, surprisingly). Ron had been shockingly kind about the whole thing, almost as if he was expecting it. That had been the hardest part. He knew. Was she so transparent? It didn't really matter, her engagement was over and for the time being their friendship was too. He'd asked for some time, he said he needed to get used to not being  _with_ her. She understood. It was something she needed as well. He had asked if there was someone else and she simply couldn't lie, but she did make it clear that the other person did not return her feelings.

 _How pathetic_ , she thought. "Gods, I miss Crookshanks," she mumbled to the empty room. Though she was confident in her decision in calling off the wedding, she still felt like the worst kind of person having disappointed so many people she cared for, including Ron.

Getting up and shuffling to the loo, she finally got a good look at herself, the sight made her sick. "I should have taken Harry and Ginny up on their offer of their guest room."

Deciding on a shower, she turned on the taps and pulled out a fresh bottle of her favourite shampoo from the cabinet behind the mirror. As she stood beneath the spray she decided that she had made the right decision. Her mum always said that a nice hot shower would 'put things right' in her words. And that was what she was doing. Putting things right  _and_ starting over. No Ron, no Weasleys and no Severus.  _It's not like I'm the sort of witch who needs a man to define her_ , she thought as she worked the shampoo through her long, curly locks. That much was true. She didn't need anyone. She'd started her company with nothing more than her savings, a decent sales pitch and a whole lot of gumption.  _She_ had approached Anthony all on her own, convincing him that the business was a good investment. No one had helped her then and no one would help her now. A few years without a boyfriend, a wizard, in her life would do her some good. She could focus on the work, really make a difference in the world. This was her chance to prove that she was her own woman.

She squeezed the water from her hair before working some Muggle anti-frizz oil into it, content to let it air dry (no magic, she'd learned that lesson the hard way). Stepping out of the shower, she wrapped a fluffy white towel around herself, applied some lotion to her arms and chest, walked back into her room and screamed bloody murder!

* * *

Severus immediately stood from his perch on her bed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Miss Granger, please, calm yourself."

"Merlin's hairy nut sack! What are you doing in my bedroom?" she exclaimed.

"I flew up and came in through the window as to avoid the horde of press waiting at your doorstep."

"Flew up?" She looked around the room.

He sighed. "I, as a former… Death Eater, retain the ability to fly without the use of a broom."

"Oh," she said, then sighed deeply, her hand still at her mostly bare chest. "Continue."

"I tripped on that  _very_ inconveniently placed table in front of the window on my way in and scraped my shin. I had only just paused on your bed long enough to ascertain the extent of my injury." He pulled up his pant leg to show her his bloody shin, and prove the truth in his statement.

"Oh, my!" She dropped to the floor and silently Accio'd her wand. The piece of wood came flying to her raised hand from the bedside table. With a flick of her wrist and a muttered spell, the scrape was gone, as was the slight pain. She looked up at him from her place at his feet and smiled. "How's that?"

"How's…" He tried to get his mind in order, but her scent was assailing him. Lilac was the strongest, of course, since she'd just come from the shower, but he could still smell parchment and ink and the lingering scent of ancient books. "Miss Gran… Hermione, I…" Dropping to his knees, he covered her bare shoulders with his large hands. "You ended it."

She nodded.

"Why?"

"I couldn't let Ron be second. I'd rather be alone."

"You really think that you love me?"

"Please don't do this. I've had a bad day." She tried to pull away. "I don't even understand why you're here."

"Do you love me, Hermione?"

She was crying, but would not look at him. Tucking her head down, she spoke to the floor. "I didn't do it for you…"

"I didn't ask that. Please, just answer the question."

"I do," she whispered, her voice small and defeated.

"You smell good," he said as he pulled her into his chest.

She made a surprised squeak as he wrapped his arms around her back. "What..?"

"You, Hermione Granger, smell exactly like you're supposed to smell."

"I… I don't understand," she said as she clutched at his coat.

He placed his hands on either side of her face and pulled back, looking into her eyes. "You smell like love." Kissing her forehead he said, "I won't have you be second either." He kissed her tear damp cheeks. "Second to no one."

She sucked in a breath of air just before his lips met hers. Kissing Hermione felt like nothing he'd ever experienced. It was exciting and calming at the same time. It felt terrifyingly perfect like he'd been away from home for years only to return to a warm fire and his favourite book. As comforting as it was, it also ignited a fire in is veins propelling him towards feelings long dormant. Her lips were sweet and soft as he grazed them with his tongue only to have her part them obligingly, allowing him to slip into the warm, wet cavern and meet hers with fervour.

The kiss continued until he pulled away in favour of trailing his lips down her neck, sucking little droplets of water left behind by her still wet hair.

"Gods Severus! Wh- what changed?" she said, followed by a moan when he sucked on her pulse point.

"Nothing, I just came to my senses," he whispered, then pulled back. "What kind of fool turns down a lovely, accomplished witch who claims to be in love with him?" he said, running his thumb over her bee-stung lips. "Besides, as I said, I like how you smell." He noticed that her towel was nearly falling off of her.

Hermione giggled, then realisation bloomed on her face. "You're a Potion's Master."

"I am," he said with a smirk. "Nothing gets past you."

She narrowed her eyes. "Don't be a git."

"But I'm so good at it."

"Does this have something to do with a certain love potion?" she asked, moving out of his hold and adjusting her towel. The sight made Severus want to pout. He didn't, of course, but the feeling was there.

"I would never give a witch a love potion. I'm offended…"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. And I'm getting up, my knees are killing me."

A decision of which he was glad, his were starting to ache. He watched as she pulled a dressing gown off of the foot of her bed and slipped it on, letting the towel fall.  _Damn_.

"You want the truth?"

She turned to him but didn't speak, she just walked over to her vanity and picked up a band to hold back her unruly hair. Looking at him in the mirror she said, "I do."

He walked until he was standing directly behind her, his reflection easily seen just as was hers. "I didn't know it was you until I kissed your cheek the other day. It's been driving me mad ever since."

"You're basing this decision solely on the scent of your Amortentia?" she asked. Gone was the look of awe on her pretty face. Now she seemed defiant and indignant.

 _Oh, what a witch!_  She would challenge him for the rest of his days. "Of course not. You did make a sound argument in your letter."

Her sideways smile made his heart thump and his trousers a bit less comfortable.

"I'm an attorney, I'm good at making a point."

"So I'm told."

Finishing with her hair, she turned, looking up at him. "It used to smell like her."

"For years. Even after her death," he answered honestly.

"But now?"

"Hermione…"

"I just want to hear it," she said with fear and doubt in her eyes.

"Now it smells like you. Lilacs, books, parchment and ink." He cupped her face. "It smells like my witch. That is if she'll have me."

She jumped up from her seat, throwing her arms around his neck. "Oh, Severus!" she said, burying her face in his chest. "I'm yours."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading. Please send me a comment and let me know what you think! I love hearing from you all! ~Lil~


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